


Colonnello’s Terrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

by LadyHallen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Crossover, Day 3, Don't repost, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Genderbend, Injury, Isekai AU, KHRrarePairWeek2020, Shocking/Hilarious Reveals, colonnello just cannot deal with this on top of blood loss, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24873859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: Colonnello is injured during a mission and Reborn takes him to his house.Colonnello dearly wishes Reborn had taken him to the hospital instead.
Relationships: Colonnello & Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Harry Potter/Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 116
Kudos: 1484
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020, The Best Fics I've Read





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020) collection. 



> This is for the Prompt: Isekai AU| Shocking/HIlarious Reveals
> 
> Shout out to all the participants of the event week! Happy third day!!

It was rare for Lal to ask for Reborn and maybe that should have been Colonnello’s first clue that the job was going to shit. Reborn had crazy luck, and Colonnello was just the unfortunate bystander caught in the crossfire.

A movement jarred his ribs and he wanted to flinch. He held it back through sheer willpower. He had a broken collarbone and flinching was just not advisable. He didn’t want to black out and have Reborn drag his body behind him, he’d never live it down. And Reborn, the bastard, would never let him forget it too.

“That’s the last of them,” Reborn said, voice oddly breathless. His eyes were shining yellow, an unholy light that Colonnello didn’t really like to see. His fingers were sparking, sun flames jumping on the residue gunpowder.

Colonnello nodded and stifled a whimper. Blood was seeping through his fingers despite the makeshift bandage tied around it and he knew it was a bad sign.

Reborn, looking at him with dark eyes, knew it too.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Reborn hissed. _You idiot_ was left unsaid, but it echoed loudly. Colonnello would have smacked him for it but he didn’t have the energy to muster.

“I live near,” Reborn said reluctantly, sounding like the words were pulled from his lips. “Don’t say a word to the others or I’m leaving your sorry ass here.”

The threat wasn’t empty; Colonnello knew he would do it, the sadistic asshole.

“I thought you sleep hanging from a tree like a bat, kora?” Colonnello muttered.

Reborn tightened his grip. It was a testament to how serious it was that the hitman just didn’t drop him. “You’re confusing me with Viper,” Reborn said.

That was funny, even if it shouldn’t have been. Aw man, blood loss.

Reborn walked faster.

.

* * *

.

Reborn had fallen in love with a civilian woman, years ago. He’d loved her enough to be monogamous and that had shocked a lot of them.

He didn’t invite them to the wedding but they’d crashed it anyway. (Which was hilarious as fuck, he was so angry but with the woman there, he couldn’t shoot them like he wanted.)

Her name was Harry and she was as civilian as it could get, being a total homemaker.

She was a bombshell and they all understood how she caught Reborn’s eye. What they didn’t understand was what made him stay.

It was a complete mystery but it had become something normal and known in the inner circle of Vongola.

Water was wet, the sky was blue, Reborn was so fucking in love that he actually married in a church – the romantic fucker.

Colonnello had somehow forgotten that fact until they crossed the gate and a beautiful redheaded woman hurried out, an apron tied around her waist.

“Sweetheart, where are you hurt?” she asked, opening the door for them.

Colonnello felt a grin pull up his lips. _Sweetheart_. The World’s Greatest Hitman. He wanted to cackle, but breathing was becoming difficult.

“Not me,” Reborn answered. “Colonnello has a knife wound and a broken collarbone and Primo knows what else is wrong with him.”

He couldn’t let that pass. Colonnello mustered enough energy to smack his stomach.

“Don’t make me drop you,” Reborn threatened.

“Boys,” Harry said. “Stop playing. Put him on the couch.”

Reborn pushed off the cushions with a knee and set down Colonnello. Stretched out and horizontal, everything somehow hurt worse.

“Shit,” Colonnello hissed, acutely feeling the broken collarbone.

“Out of the way, honey,” Harry said, putting Reborn to the side. She knelt down beside him and gave him a bottle with red liquid.

No way around it, the liquid was red. It sloshed when he held it. It, frankly, looked like blood.

What the hell happened to pills?

Colonnello looked at Reborn and back to the bottle. Nope. No help from him. He was smiling uselessly like a besotted idiot.

“Drink it,” the sweet civilian woman said with a smile that was ominous as fuck. _Or I’ll do something else that will hurt worse_ was implied.

Colonnello drank the liquid.

Immediately, he felt better.

“What the fuck, kora,” Colonnello announced blankly.

Harry produced a stick, waved it, and _all his injuries went away_.

Colonnello had been surprised so many times in the past ten minutes that he’d just. Stopped. Reacting.

Mechanically, the sniper turned to Reborn, who looked like he was about to cackle.

“What the fucking fuck, kora?” Colonnello repeated emphatically.

That was what broke Reborn’s composure and he _laughed_.

.

* * *

.

Fifteen minutes later, munching on a muffin and sipping on really nice tea, Colonnello looked from Reborn to Harry.

“Let me get this straight, kora,” Colonnello said. He gestured to Harry. “You’re a witch and you’re also not from this world. An alien witch, technically.Then you saved Reborn’s life?”

Harry giggled angelically like she wasn’t capable of killing Colonnello with just a word. “Not an alien witch, Colonnello. A dimension hopping witch. I wound up stuck. Then, Reborn was injured and I saved his life.”

And Reborn, of course, couldn’t let that go. He followed her around, finally figuring her out and also falling in love at the same time, because he was an overachieving, multi-tasking bastard.

It was so unbelievable that it wound up being so believable at the same time. Colonnello wanted to shoot something to relieve his feelings.

“I can’t believe you sat on this for years,” Colonnello said. But actually, he could. Reborn was a cagey bastard when it came to personal shit. For Harry, he could believe Reborn’s secrecy.

“It could be that I just didn’t like you,” Reborn said.

Colonnello was about to stand up and punch him when Harry clapped her hands and said happily, “Oh, speaking of secrets! Colonnello, would you like to see our son?”

“Sure, kora!” he said mindlessly, still thinking of punching Reborn in his smug and stubborn mouth.

Harry left and came back with a baby. It had curly hair and an angelic smile, green eyes big and sparkling.

Colonnello’s brain short-circuited.

It was the smile.

It was mischievous and merry and so fucking familiar that he wanted to scream.

That was Reborn’s smile on a baby.

“What the fuck, kora?” Colonnello repeated weakly. “You have a son. You procreated.”

“I know,” Harry said enthusiastically, missing Colonnello’s point entirely. “Isn’t he cute? My little sunshine baby.”

Colonnello took a gulp of tea and wished it was stronger.

.

* * *

.

Somehow, Colonnello escaped the house without losing anymore of his sanity.

“Reborn,” he told the hitman. “ _Never_ invite me back there. At least, not without warning.”

His heart couldn’t take being surprised that many times in a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Reborn is a Troll, Harry is too and there’s a reason they’re married.


	2. How Harry and Reborn met

It was the sleep deprivation, Harry would use as an excuse. That and how god awfully confused she had been feeling.

It wasn’t a nice thing, feeling that confused, and Harry was more confused than most.

The world she had landed on _had_ magic, thank Merlin, enough that she her potions weren’t inert and her wand didn’t turn brittle. It just felt strangely hot, for magic. Magic wasn’t supposed to feel hot and coupled with the complete absence of Diagon Alley or the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was confused. Where had magic gone?

The answer, her sleep deprived ass mused, landed on her doorstep, bleeding, concussed and with several broken fingers and a broken leg, several lacerations on his back and a broken nose. It was a testament to how threatening Voldemort and Death had been that a deadly weapon aimed at her barely made her heart beat faster.

It was a wonder that the man could even hold his gun and aim it at her.

“Do not call the hospital,” the bloody man commanded, swaying in place but hands steady and aiming at her head.

Harry blinked slowly. She could see it, the magic. It swirled around him like yellow fire, licking his wounds closed very _slowly_. If it continued, it might heal his bones wrong, then she’d need to re-break things and that just wouldn’t be fun for everyone.

“Alright,” she agreed. “But won’t you come in? You’re alarming the neighbors.”

The man swayed in place for a couple more beats before agreeing, entering her apartment like a cautious cat. He moved like a cat too, quietly and without a whisper of sound, despite how much pain he must have been in.

“I have some bandages, and some salves,” she offered. She just needed him off his feet and unconscious. Preferably two hours ago.

It took another moment before he agreed and Harry finally had him pegged. She knew his type. He was a controlling man. Anal retentive, Hermione had called it.

She doctored his tea with some muscle relaxant, and with the state of him, even as suspicious as he was, he fell asleep immediately.

Blearily, Harry thought it was a good thing that she was so good with fixing injuries while drunk, sleepy or tired. She waved her wand, fixing injuries and straightening up broken bones with a thought, her magic working overtime to compensate for her less than optimal thought processes.

And then she was left with a bloody man on her sofa, ruining the upholstering. Harry huffed a breath and cleaned him up too. She wanted her deposit back, dammit.

It really was the damned sleep deprivation, Harry cursed as she accidentally drank the tea she had given the man, the one with the muscle relaxant. It worked on her too well and she crashed on the chair with a curse.

I am never going without sleep for two weeks, Harry promised before a gigantic yawn overtook her and she finally fell asleep.

.

* * *

.

When Harry woke up, feeling weirdly refreshed and tired at the same time, she was starving.

She also thought that the man she had cured was a dream until she opened her eyes and almost screamed at the man still asleep on her sofa.

It made sense, she realized belatedly. He was healing from what must have been torture wounds. Nobody broke their fingers or concussed themselves intentionally.

She couldn’t leave him there of course.

An idea occurred and she giggled before she could stop herself.

Twenty minutes later, the man was in a motel in another country, asleep and with all his belongings. Harry’s couch was free of blood and she was indulging herself in chocolate fudge ice cream.

He was going to be so confused, Harry giggled over a mouthful of ice cream.

.

* * *

.

The man hunted her down and for a moment, Harry cursed her red hair for being so memorable. Then, the little devil peeked up at her and Harry mentally shrugged. Why not, she thought.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, her green eyes going confused. “I don’t understand. What? Who are you?”

He snarled at her and Harry played at being frightened. McGonagall was scarier than this man, and she could sniff liars within a heartbeat. Well, he probably could as well, but he couldn’t threaten her while she was working in a bookstore and all the employees there loved her.

“I’m trying to jog your memory,” he said, voice low to keep it private.

“I’m sorry sir, but I still don’t know who you are?” she said just as softly. “Do you need help with a book?”

He huffed and stalked out, footsteps still eerily quiet. Not that anyone else noticed.

When he was far enough, Harry allowed herself a private smirk.

.

* * *

.

He stalked her!

Harry blinked large eyes at the man on her doorstep, getting a flashback to the last time he was there, bloody and swaying. A blink, and he was clean and holding a cup of coffee to her.

He was also holding a bag of chocolate croissants.

Harry opened the door wider, eyes on the croissants.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I won’t even drug you, just answer my questions,” he demanded.

Reluctantly, she let him in. She really shouldn’t, but she really wanted those croissants. It had been ages since she’d allowed herself a pastry and the sudden craving for it was going to be a problem.

At least he laid out his offerings on the table first, letting her have a sip of coffee and a bite of the pastry before starting out with, “So what family are you allied with?”

This time, Harry’s confusion wasn’t feigned. “What?”

He made a rude noise and waved a hand. “You healed my injuries and then moved me across countries. You obviously have connections. Who are your contacts?”

The truth, she realized. Was going to be more confusing than lies.

With an inner cackle, Harry said, “I’m alone. I’ve been alone since I got here. I mostly moved to Italy for the desserts.”

Though, if Harry really wanted decadent, she would have moved to France. Those people had _ideas_ about butter.

He looked frustrated. “You…alone? You did it alone? That’s impossible.”

Harry finished off the pastry in four bites. If he was going to start shooting, at least she had something delicious in her stomach.

He didn’t start shooting, but he did leave looking more confused than anything.

Harry waited thirty minutes before letting out a cackle.

.

* * *

.

The man - and she still didn’t know his name, kept appearing in her apartment.

He also seemed to notice that she let him in faster if he brought baked food. Hermione always said that food would kill her, but Harry didn’t think she meant the food brought as bribes from a mercenary.

And he was a mercenary, she realized. He kept a gun on him at all times and Italy’s gun laws weren’t _that_ lax. She’d read up on it once in the bookstore after he showed up for dinner three times in a row. Italy needed permits to carry. With how well cared for that gun was – and how well _used_ it was, Harry didn’t think he had a hunting license.

He still kept asking her strange questions. Harry was just as confused as when he started this strange arrangement, but not as confused as he was.

“What Flames?” Harry answered the millionth strange question. “I don’t have fire!”

The man made a noise like a cat stepped on and left after washing the dishes.

Harry felt herself softening. He was such a sweetheart.

.

* * *

.

Once, he fell asleep on the table, clearly worn out and Harry let him sleep.

She knitted across him, making a tea cozy and amusing herself with the funny patterns.

When he woke up near midnight, he looked spooked - frightened.

Concerned, Harry let go of her knitting and held his hand. “Are you alright?” she asked.

He kissed her hand and left, still looking scared out of his mind but considering.

.

And then the flowers started.

.

The bouquet of orchids and red carnations had Harry blushing.

Did he?...she looked up at his guileless eyes and looked at the flowers again. He didn’t know the meaning of course. It was just a coincidence that the flowers meant exotic beauty and admiration.

“Thank you,” she told him. “What’s with the flowers?”

He held her hand between his, and she felt small. His hands were larger than hers and Harry shivered deliciously at the warmth.

“Can a man not give flowers to friends?” he asked. “And I just realized. It’s been three months and I never gave my name. It’s Renato.”

Harry smiled. “Harriet. Call me Harry.”

Renato looked dazed. “Lovely name,” he murmured.

.

* * *

.

If Harry thought that Renato showed up regularly when he stalked her, now that he had given her his name, he seemed to show up every day on a schedule.

He brought dinner, a startling difference to the baked goods, and stopped asking her strange questions. He stopped looking confused and instead brought a lot of flowers.

Harry felt harassed. The flower’s messages were enough to make her blush, and Renato still looked clueless at her embarrassment. The latest one seemed to be asking her to marry him. Harry wanted to die, it was so forward.

“You don’t like the Spider Flowers?” Renato asked. “I can get different ones. How about Chrysanthemum’s and Daffodils?”

There was no way this was a coincidence anymore. He’d all but announced he was in love with her. _Unrequited love with her_. His eyes were crinkled with suppressed laughter and Harry understood.

“Renato, you’re going to kill me,” Harry whined, face buried in her hands. “I love you, you bastard.”

Renato laughed, scooping her up in his arms. Harry was helpless to resist and she laughed with him.

.

* * *

.

They were still having miscommunication issues. Harry was undeniably British and Reborn was also undeniably Italian.

There also seemed to be a second layer of miscommunication that still seemed to be happening, no matter Harry’s or Renato’s best efforts.

The answer to this was dates. Lots and lots of dates where they just talked, as honestly as they could to each other, so that it would resolve their issues. Renato promised to tell her when he was angry with her. Harry promised to ask him what he was feeling instead of just assuming what he felt. It was a work in progress.

On Harry’s days off, they went trawling through coffee shops, Reborn for the coffee and Harry for the pastry.

It was a good system and both of them loved it.

And then the shooting happened.

.

* * *

.

Ducked under broken tables and bandaging an arm wound, Harry whips out her wand and heals it, cursing the entire time when the bullet pushes out. It hurt so much more going out than it had gone in.

“What is that?” Renato asked in shock.

Harry blinked at him and swore. She had forgotten one important thing in the many things she had shared with her lover.

“Magic?” she said weakly.

He smiled, looking manic. “You don’t use Flames? You’re not in the mafia?”

Harry gave a weak giggle. “No. I’m a witch. You’re in the mafia?”

“I thought you knew?” he asked her.

Which, in hindsight, yeah. Why didn’t she guess it?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he continued, gesturing at the wand she was using to reinforce the table against the gunshots.

Harry bit her lip and did her best to look innocent. “Would you believe me if I tell you that I forgot?”

Reborn hid his face in his fedora and _laughed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry was mentally going Oops.
> 
> Comments please


	3. Wedding Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outsider POV for the Wedding Scene

Ever since Harry had learned about the mafia, it seemed to solve around eighty percent of their miscommunication issues.

Which was a good thing, because she was falling slowly and steadily for the completely ridiculous man.

He cooked for her when he woke up first, he cuddled her when she was sick and he tended to ask for her lap when he had a bad day at work. Such a sweet man, and Harry loved him for it.

So when he asked, she said yes.

.

.

Their wedding was held at a bright summer day, flowers everywhere and some of Harry’s neighbors attending because she just couldn’t help herself and had to ask them.

Reborn indulged her and just gave her a budget.

Money _had_ been one of the things they used to argue about, but Harry had realized that when Reborn said he could handle it, he _meant it._

The church was awash with flowers and her dress was a lovely combination of white with blue lace. Harry smiled the entire day, her chest light and her feet dancing.

Then, Reborn’s friends came and even if they’d done it without invitations, Harry was too blindingly happy to care and hugged them.

Reborn gritted his teeth and seemed to be on the verge of pulling his gun, which would not do, because _what if he hit the cake?_

Harry petted his hand, which seemed to do wonders in calming him down.

“We brought gifts,” the smiling lady, Aria, said. She was visibly pregnant and very unflappable.

“Oh, how lovely,” Harry cooed.

“Yes, lovely,” Reborn said flatly. His eyes were shining yellow, which made at least three of his friends flinch, but they were all grinning wickedly.

Harry missed the joke, probably, but she didn’t mind. Close friends always had inside jokes.

“It’s so nice to see you during our wedding,” she said. “Reborn never brings co-workers home.”

Someone choked on champagne and she thoughtfully slid a napkin closer.

.

.

Reborn knew that Harry knew about the mafia.

He knew that!

Just sometimes, he forgot that she knew, because she spoke double entendre so well. A secret society she’d spent a lifetime hiding, she’d said. Which really hammered the point.

“What are you fuckers doing here?” he hissed at them.

Colonnello’s smile was fucking annoying him just for existing, as was Skull’s. Fon annoyed him on a daily basis so he didn’t count.

“We just wanted to meet your bride,” Mammon said. “We didn’t realize she was so…civilian.”

Reborn distinctly remembered pointing a gun at said civilian, and having her stare him down.

Civilian. _Yeah right._

“You’re all annoying, there’s a reason I didn’t invite you,” he sighed. “Don’t do anything to ruin this wedding. It’ll be on your own fucking head. Harriet has…a temper.”

Their garden was very well fertilized. Harriet _hated_ people who ruined her house, even if she could fix it with a word.

“We’ll behave,” Fon said calmly. That did not reassure him.

Ah, that was no longer his problem.

.

.

Aria stopped whatever mischief Skull was planning with Mammon and Colonnello.

She’d dreamed of it last night and winced. Reborn’s bride did indeed have a temper. Civilian, feh.

“This is a very special moment for Ms. Harry,” Aria scolded them, grown-ups who were her uncles and aunt and needed the reminder. “If you ruin this for her, she will be very upset. _I_ will be very upset.”

Faced with that threat, the three of them behaved. And everything went off without a hitch. Even if Harriet had turned to look at them with a speculative look that haunted Aria.


	4. Meeting the Tenth Generation Vongola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outsider POV

Everyone in Vongola knew that Reborn was married.

Even if he had no wedding ring, he occasionally had lunch boxes from his wife, which he proudly carried, and sometimes, he requested leave for certain dates, which he vowed was actually an anniversary of some sort.

This could only be the actions of a very committed man.

Strangely, barring the Arcobaleno who had crashed the wedding, no one had actually _seen_ Reborn’s wife.

They knew she was gorgeous, because Reborn had a certain _type_. They just had no idea what kind of person she was.

When a beautiful redhead knocked on the Iron Fort’s gates with a very familiar lunch box, the gossip reached crazy levels.

“Is that - !”

“Oh my god,”

“She just petted his hair.”

“Fuck the _petting_ , she just _pulled_ at his side-burns!”

The staff and various Mafioso of different departments crowded around the windows and just. Stared.

“Is she going in?” someone asked what everyone was thinking.

Yes, she was.

.

* * *

.

Tsuna had mastered the discreet art of staring at someone while drinking tea and making it seem like you were actually not staring at that person, no, just staring at the flowers.

It was a blessing because he couldn’t actually stop staring.

She was gorgeous and feminine and…so gosh darn civilian that Tsuna was having a headache picturing her with his scary and very murderous mafia tutor.

“I love your castle!” she was saying with great enthusiasm. She was staring around avidly, somehow not noticing the sharp candelabra’s that could be used as a second-hand weapon and the complete absence of rugs.

Ah, rugs, so hard to clean of blood.

“Thank you,” he said. “It was an inheritance.”

“Ren never talks about work,” she said, making Tsuna breathe long and deep to avoid beverage failure. Like it was _normal_ to say Reborn’s name and not get skewered and punctured multiple times. She continued, “I got curious. He also left his lunchbox so I had an excuse!”

Tsuna looked to Reborn for help.

Reborn looked sappily, disgustingly in love.

Tsuna had a headache. He had never seen his sadistic hitman tutor act like that and the dichotomy was driving him insane.

No wonder Colonnello got twitchy every time someone brought up Reborn’s wife.

.

* * *

.

Lambo met her next, and he decided, then and there, that he liked her.

“Oh, what lovely hair!” she declared, staring at his afro.

Lambo looked at her, at the absolute _chaos_ in her eyes and smiled.

“I like your hair too, sorella!” he said. “You look like a mermaid!”

She smiled, and Lambo absolutely loved her. “I’m just magical.”

.

* * *

.

Hayato and Takeshi, returning from a mission, met her just as she was exiting the mansion arm in arm with Reborn.

Takeshi’s instincts were going crazy, looking at the delicate, gorgeous woman in a sundress. He had absolutely no idea why, but he knew to trust those instincts.

“Yamamoto, Gokudera,” Reborn greeted. “My wife, Harriet.”

She gave them a sunny smile that had all of Takeshi’s hair standing on end. “Pleasure to meet you!”

Hayato looked, somehow, terrified. “Nice to meet you too,” he said in a strangled tone.

On they went, and Takeshi had to ask, “Was she very scary?”

Hayato snorted. “Baseball freak, think about it. My sister is still in love with Reborn. If that woman survived her, there’s no way in hell that she’s a civilian.”

“Maah!” Takeshi laughed, accepting the logic. Because Bianchi was _hardcore_ for Reborn. “No wonder my hand itched. I thought she just smiled with too many teeth!”

Hayato started scolding him but both of them hurried to Tsuna, eager to see their Sky again.

.

* * *

.

Ryohei encountered them in the garden while he was doing his exercises.

Reborn introduced them, and Harriet smiled innocently.

“If you are Reborn-san’s wife, then you must also be an extreme person!” he decided. “Pleasure to meet you, Harriet-san!”

Harriet giggled and shook his hand. “Oh, you’re just too sweet!” she pronounced. “Ren, you’re kids are so nice.”

.

* * *

.

Unfortunately, Mukuro, Chrome and Kyoya were fighting in the sandpit by the garden.

“You can probably beat them if you prepared,” Reborn mused.

Harriet looked at them critically, smile nowhere on her face. “Yes. Runic traps…hmm.”

Hibari stopped. “Fight me,” he said.

Harriet whipped out her wand and smiled toothily, folding her scarf and cardigan neatly. “Honey, can you hold this for a moment? I don’t want them dirty.”

“Of course,” he said obligingly.

The proceeding events expanded the sand pit and had all three Guardians _stare_ at Harriet in admiration.

“Why on earth did she marry you?” Mukuro muttered, nowhere near Reborn’s hearing - he wasn’t suicidal.

“Ahh, Harriet-san is so cool,” Chrome said dazedly.

Hibari said nothing, but his scowl was dark.

.

* * *

.

“Ah, your kids are so energetic,” she told him. “It was nice to visit your workplace today.”

Reborn held back a laugh through sheer force of will. “You terrified everyone today, just so you know.”

Harriet looked surprised. “But I was being nice!” she protested. “I didn’t even prank anyone!”

He finally let out a laugh. “You don’t know your own chaos, my love.”


End file.
